Say that With A Straight Face
by Lacrimula Falsa
Summary: /Lying is not, as some would assume, an innate skill./ Lying gets easier with practise. Five times Loki lied and one time he did not. [Might be canon-compliant. Complete.]


**Say That With A Straight Face  
** _by Lacrimula Falsa_

 ** _Disclaimer:_** I do not own any part of the Marvel Cinematic Universe and/or any other Marvel franchise. I write for fun, not for profit.

Summary: __Lying is not, as some would assume, an innate skill.__ Lying gets easier with practise. Five times Loki lied and one time he did not. [Might be canon-compliant. Complete.]

A/N: I cannot believe that I wrote something that doesn't completely ignore Thor:The Dark World. Reviews are great. (Obviously.)

 **Warnings!:** _Mention of rape or at least a definite non-con situation_ , the nature of which is not clearly stated. _Stillbirth, death in childbed_. Read with care if this might be triggering. _Character death_ , both real and 'assumed'. (In other words Thor 2 happens.)

* * *

Lying is not, as some would assume, an innate skill.

It is a learned art like wielding a sword or wielding seidr, and you do not master it overnight.

-V-

 **Lie**

The first time he lies, it is for no other reason then fearing his mother's scolding, standing in front of his destroyed bed, the wooden frame still smoking.

"Loki, did you hide a burning coal in your bed?"

 _Yes. I was afraid. It was dark. But the ember was bright._

But a prince of Asgard should not have any childish fears of the dark, so he lies.

"No mother."

It's the first lie he ever tells.

It's the only lie he ever confesses, because his conscience won't let him sleep.

Frigga's scolding is twice as bad for the lie. He never admits to lying again.

-V-

 **Half-truth**

He learns that small lies are easier.

When lady Eyrni asks him if he likes her dress, he tells her that he likes the colour.

He does, it's green. The dress is ugly anyway, but then she does not need to know that.

-V-

 **Fib**

He practises. Every day.

"Did you hide a card in your sleeve?"

"No, of course not."

He adds another handful of gold to the pile.

-V-

 **Fabrication**

"And you've lain with this woman without taking...precautions?"

His father's anger had managed to stab his heart, but his mother's disappointment rends his soul.

"Yes mother."

"And now she is with child?"

"Yes mother." After a short pause he feels compelled to add "I was careless."

"Yes, that you were."

Maybe it is something in her voice, or in her eyes or her stance, but he's seized by the sudden suspicion that maybe she knows. That she has seen through his fabrication.

But even if she does know, the truth will never pass his lips.

Because he might not remember anything between swallowing the mead he was handed and waking in the woman's bed. And he might not know what she put in his drink.  
But he will be damned before he admits to any such thing as being _forced_.

 _'Ergi! Weakling! Powerless nīðing!'_ , jeer the voices in his head.

Lady Runna's child ( _his daughter_ , even if he does not – cannot – claim her) is stillborn. Lady Runna dies in childbed.

Everyone thinks that his grief is for a lover, but all his tears are for the child. It's just one more lie, so it does not matter.

-V-

 **Lie**

"HE'S NOT MY FATHER!"

"Then am I not your mother?"

"You're not."

After centuries of practise, lying is easy if not painless.

-X-

 **Truth**

Every skill can only be applied so often before it wears out.

The last words he ever spoke to his mother were a lie.  
It seems that the Norns won't let him lie to his brother as well.

When Thor believes him to be dying on Svartalfheim – when he believes _himself_ to be dying, for a moment, enthralled by his own deception – the last words to spill from his lips are not a lie.

The truth catches him by surprise, spilling from his lips like water from a wellspring.

"I know. I'm a fool. I'm a fool."

"Stay with me, hey!"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Sh. It's okay. It's alright. I'll tell father what you did here today."

"I didn't do it for him."

 _For once in your life, Lie-smith, nothing but the truth._

When he hears his brothers anguished scream, he is almost sorry.  
Almost. Not quite.

Because that's the thing about lying every day: At some point, you stop feeling bad about it.

 _'Liar!'_ , whisper the voices in his head.

* * *

 _A/N:_ **nīðing** \- someone who is nothing, a person without honour (If you want more info look it up please.)


End file.
